


At the edge of the world

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after she banished him from Storybrooke, Belle and Rumplestiltskin meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the edge of the world

The beach ahead of her is just as empty as her mind, the thunderclouds rapidly gathering at the horizon symbolizing her restlessness. The wind pulling insistingly at her hair and clothes doesn't give Belle a moment's respite, just like the sense of regret that never leaves her alone, no matter where she goes and what she does.

Her worn boots sink into the non-descriptive sand when she makes her way down just another coastline, staring at yet another horizon. Her head lowered, the former librarian is aware of but heeds no attention to the figure making its way onto the beach opposite her.

Belle tries to think of where she will go next now that she has been to Scotland as well. She can't think of any country that might evoke the slightest sense of enthusiasm though, can't think of any activity there that might make her  _feel_ again.

Half aware of the silhouette heading in her direction on the otherwise deserted beach, she briefly wonders whether that person is as lonely as she is. She refuses to give the fact that the individual leans on a cane any particular thought.

She knows exactly where she is, but she has never felt more lost. She should have known better than to expect to find some sort of connection, anything at all, in the country where her True Love comes from according to the curse that brought them to this world.

Intuitively, she glances up right when the figure approaching is about to pass her at some distance, just in time to see the other do the same. Both of them freeze when their gazes meet and realization dawns.

"Rumplestiltskin," she states after a few endless seconds of silence, her voice emotionless to her own ears.

"Belle," her husband acknowledges, sounding equally neutral. She can't tell whether he tries to come across as indifferent or has become just as numb as she is.

Neither of them speaking, she takes in the sight of him just like he takes note of her appearance. His hair is almost entirely gray now, the thick stubble on his cheeks and chin no exception, the wrinkles in his skin considerably more pronounced. He wears several layers that don't match in color or texture and look like they have been mended countless times, and his shoes being... well, she isn't even certain they actually are shoes.

She wonders what he sees when looking at her for the first time in a decade, but doesn't particularly care. Similarly, she doesn't truly feel anything when seeing her usually so impeccably dressed husband wearing rags that can't possibly provide sufficient protection against the elements.

"What brings you to this part of the world?"

His voice is rough, as if he barely uses it anymore, his expression stoic. Despite the time they've been apart, she knows better than to consider it an act. It's a testament to her own state of mind that she feels nothing whatsoever at the discovery that he appears to have become as distant as she has become herself.

"The same reason I'm going to other parts of the world," she replies, shrugging. "I'm traveling."

"You're seeing the world, like you always wanted to," he replies, his voice still entirely even.

"I am. What about you?" she asks, giving in to the vague curiosity welling up inside her. "How did you end up here?"

"This place is as good as any to die." Rumplestiltskin is the one to shrug this time. "I came here hoping to find…  _something_  in the land that the curse gave me memories of."

"Did you find something?"

"Of course not," he snorts humorlessly. "That would have been too easy."

"So you're just…"

"Waiting for the end," he replies, entirely serious. "What about you? Did you find what you were looking for on your travels?"

"I did, yes," she says, smiling slightly when she thinks back on the first years of her journey around the world. "It was wonderful, at first. All those beautiful places, all those amazing people…"

"You don't like it anymore," he concludes when she falters.

"Not really, no. After a few years… all those countries, no matter how beautiful they are… they all start to blur together. Nothing is exciting anymore. I would have gone home, if only I had a place to go back to."

"You left Storybrooke for good?"

"I did. There's nothing for me there. Henry and I are still in touch, but we don't speak often."

"How's my grandson?" he asks, a hint of interest appearing in his previously dull eyes.

"He's well. In fact, you became a great-grandfather a few months ago."

The corners of his lip turn upwards ever so slightly in a ghost of a smile, somewhat reminding her of the man he used to be. But his expression becomes distant once more when he looks back at her.

"What about you? There's no one for you in Storybrooke?"

"There isn't," she says, shaking her head.

"And anywhere else?"

"There's no one."

"I see."

"What about you?" she inquires, wondering how it has come to  _this_.

Instead of verbally replying, he gestures at the abandoned beach around them.

"Have you ever tried?" Belle adds. "To be with someone else?"

"No," he replies, shaking his head again. "How could I? It could never compare to what we had... no one could compare to  _you_."

"You sound very sure of that," she says quietly.

"Of course. You were my happy ending, Belle. I think we can agree that fate doesn't have a happy ending in store for me."

"I believe in the consequences of a person's actions rather than in fate."

Her words are sharper than she intended them to be, but the pain of losing him the way she did has only slightly lessened throughout the years.

"I think you're probably right," he acknowledges, much to her surprise. "But what about you? Did you try to find someone else?"

"Not actively. I met a few someones during my travels, but it didn't work out."

She watches his expression closely, seeing nothing but resignation there.

" _You_ are my True Love, Rumple," she adds, looking meaningfully at the man who she couldn't stop loving even if she wanted to.

"Just like you are mine," he replies, with a hint of something in his eyes that made her swoon all those years ago.

Whatever moment they had is broken when they are startled by a roll of thunder. Turning around, Belle sees lightning flashing above the sea, new clouds approaching fast at the horizon.

"I live nearby. You can stay for shelter if you want."

She nods in agreement, grateful for the offer.

They make their way down the beach as quickly as his limp allows him, moving in the direction where he just appeared from in silence. Belle vaguely wonders at the life he might have in this remote area, but is mainly preoccupied with the fact that she met her husband despite the odds stacked against them.

She is ushered through a creaky door into a small space a few minutes later. Only when he gestures at the tattered couch in a somewhat inviting manner, it dawns on her that the cold, tiny room must be his house… that he possesses little more than a spinning wheel - with ordinary thread rather than gold and straw - and a cot with thin blankets.

"It isn't much," he says, not sounding bothered by it in the slightest.

"That's quite an understatement," she says carefully, the drop of water falling down from the ceiling above her informing her both that the storm has reached them and that the roof is hardly worth the term.

"I've had worse," he says, reaching for a can of sorts to put under the leak.

She's waiting for the way his lip will curl to indicate his sarcasm, but it doesn't appear.

"You did?"

"I did," he simply replies.

"I didn't know," she mutters, wondering how she could not have.

Taking off her backpack, she gingerly sits down on the couch.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Belle nods, knowing that he's purposefully changing the subject. Unlike all those years ago, she doesn't care anymore that he's still playing with words.

"I've got water," he says, pointing at a bucket in the corner of the room.

She doesn't need to ask to know that he doesn't have anything else.

"Even if I wanted to drink myself into the grave," he adds, probably sensing her surprise, "I wouldn't know how to achieve that here."

"I'd like some water, thank you."

He pulls his gloves off his hands before he takes something resembling a mug from a crooked shelf on the wall, revealing that he's still wearing his wedding ring - just like she is still wearing hers.

"So this is your life now?" she asks, looking through the window to find a cow and a few sheep huddling together in the rain next to the house. There's what appears to be a coop behind them.

Her husband sits down on a low stool in the opposite side of the room once he has offered her the water, not taking anything for himself.

For a long while they just sit there, not quite looking at each other as the storm rages outside, rattling the wood of the shed where the man she once shared her life with turns out to live now.

"I went looking for you, you know," Belle says eventually, lowering her mug with cold water. "A year or so after I sent you away. I spent months trying to find you, but there was no trace of you."

"I'd already left for Scotland by then," he says, looking at her with something that in another lifetime might have been hope. "Changed my name."

"Why?"

"Let's just say there were some very unpleasant people in New York who I didn't want following me."

"You never learn, do you?" she murmurs, not wanting to imagine what kind of people he associated with and what crimes he committed after she forced him to leave Storybrooke.

"Not many people to threaten and hurt here, dearie," he says lowly, gesturing around them.

"I suppose not, no," she agrees, taking in the rickety structure and shabby, unmatched furniture once more, just like the empty beach and wild sea outside.

"Why… why were you looking for me?" he asks, his tone considerably softer.

"To try to make things right."

"You believed we still had a chance?"

"I honestly don't know, but I told myself that I would know if I got to talk to you again." Looking intently at the man who she is technically still married to, Belle wonders whether they might have had a chance back then. "And you? Did you ever try to get back to Storybrooke?"

"I didn't. What would have been the point? You made very clear that you didn't want me anymore."

"You didn't believe that I would come to regret that I banished you?"

"Why would you?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I came to realize that my actions that night were… rash. Rash and irreversible."

"It's all right, Belle," he sighs. "It really is. I always knew you would never stay with me, that you would come to your senses and see me for what I truly am sooner or later. I'm just glad that we at least did get to spend some time together."

"You really believed that, didn't you?" she asks, some of the old bitterness creeping back into her voice. "You still do. Because you for some reason believed that I would leave you eventually anyway, you never actually bothered to make the right decisions, to truly be a good man."

Maddeningly, all he does is nod in agreement.

Some of the old anger and disbelief welling up inside her once more, Belle sits back on the couch and takes a sip from the mug, the water as cold as the air around them… as cold as her heart. The silence between them is only broken by the wind howling around the shed and the water leaking into the cup on the ground.

"Why did you do it, Rumple?" she asks, voicing the one question that still haunts her. "Why did you do all those horrible things only to try to become more powerful than you already were?"

"I couldn't rest until I was finally free from the power of the dagger."

"But why?"

"You ask why?" he asks, disbelieving. "Because others could control me as long as my power was still linked to the dagger… because I couldn't leave town without losing my powers."

"We could have left Storybrooke together. We could have had a life, a normal,  _loving_  life. It would have been enough."

"I wouldn't have been able to protect you from…"

"From what?" she asks when he falters. "I've traveled the world on my own. I'm fine. And so are you, by the looks of it. Why didn't you try to destroy the dagger instead? Why didn't you..."

She shakes her head in frustration, words failing her now. In the confines of her mind - and outside it, in the unhearing air - she has had this conversation countless times, but she can't think of the right words to say now that she can actually talk to him once more after all.

"Why did you  _lie_?" she asks, tears welling in her eyes despite herself. "Why did you risk everything we had together and return to the path of darkness… right after our marriage, of all times?"

He lowers his head, covering his face with both his hands.

"I needed the power no matter where we were or went because I couldn't live without it," he says, his shoulders sagging further.

"But  _why_? Why did you need that power? Wasn't what we had together enough?!"

"It was enough!" he cries out. "For as long as it would last. But it never would, not without my power. There are so many people who want to hurt you or me, or both of us. I needed my power to protect us from that."

Her retort that they were hurt often enough even with his dagger safely in reach is stuck in her throat when he looks up at her with tears dripping down his face.

"I was  _afraid_ , Belle."

He had told her exactly the same thing when she was about to send him away from Storybrooke, but this time she realizes that he wasn't only referring to being scared of being banished back then.

"What were you afraid of?"

"I was afraid of losing you, or Henry. Of either of you getting hurt. Of  _me_ being hurt, or losing my free will again."

There's despair in his eyes that goes far beyond their separation, both then and now. It reminds her of small moments in the months leading up to the end of their relationship, when he would hold her just a little too tightly after waking up abruptly in the middle of the night once again, or when he would bury his face against her stomach for stretches of time for no apparent reason, sometimes leaving the fabric of her clothing damp.

"We were... happy," she says questioningly. "Or at least, I  _thought_ we were."

"How happy can you truly be when you're constantly terrified of that happiness being taken away from you?"

"Did you feel that way?"

"After what Regina did to you? And Hook? After I  _died_? After what my father did? Zelena?  _Of course_ I felt that way!"

"I… I never knew," she mutters, looking in shock at the man she thought to know so well.

"I didn't  _want_  you to know," he sighs, looking more tired than she has ever seen him.

"But why not? If you were hurting so much, if you were that afraid, why didn't you let me see? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because having moments that I could pretend that everything was fine was most important to me. Worrying you would have only made it worse; it would have ruined the precious peaceful moments we did have, or you would have left me yet sooner - which would have been your good right."

"I… I don't know what to say."

Breathing in deeply, Belle feels as if her world is shaking on its axis, so many of what she for so long considered certainties crashing down around her. But now that she thinks of it, it doesn't seem all that unlikely that she hoped so much for their happy ending back in the day that, maybe, she had lost sight of the harsh reality of their so often troubled relationship.

"We never talked much, did we?" she ponders quietly. "Not really."

"I suppose we didn't. I thought for a long time that it was for the best, but only in the past few years I wasn't so certain of that anymore."

Her eyes widen in horror when the irony of the events that took place all those years ago finally hits her.

"It was our own fault, wasn't it?" she mutters, dismayed. "Because of what both of us didn't do."

"After everything that threatened us, everything that we overcame… only we ourselves are to blame for what happened to us," he agrees haltingly, his voice hoarse. "Only  _I_ am."

"Both of us have made mistakes," she insists, remembering only too well the unbridled sense of betrayal, the shock and sheer disappointment in him that caused her to banish him without giving it a second thought.

"I dare argue that mine were considerably worse than yours."

"If we want to move on, it shouldn't matter any longer," she replies, making up her mind. "I don't want my life to be defined by those mistakes anymore."

"Neither do I," he says, the hope appearing in his eyes even as tears still roll down his stubbled cheeks more beautiful to her than anything she has seen on her travels.

Just like that, her crying husband on the stool at the other side of the small room doesn't seem like half a world away any longer.

More determined than she has been in a long time, Belle stands up and makes her way towards him with firm steps. She helps him get up from the doubtlessly uncomfortable stool and guides him to the couch, which has just enough space for both of them to sit down next to one another.

Despite everything that has happened between them, there's nothing easier than to settle herself next to him and pull him towards her, stroking his hair and back with soothing hands.

"I dreamed about this," he whispers against her throat, "to be in your arms one last time."

"I dreamed of holding you, and of being held by you again," she murmurs. "I missed you so much, Rumple."

"I missed you too, sweetheart. So much I could barely bear it."

She shivers pleasantly at the endearment, his way of addressing her just as tender as it was all those years ago, when distrust and disappointment hadn't torn them apart yet.

Not moving away for only an inch, Rumplestiltskin reaches for her hand, his own hand calloused but just as gentle as before, if not even more so. He kisses her fingers reverently, bringing only more tears to her eyes.

This time, Belle is weeping in happiness however, especially when he withdraws slightly after all to examine her fingers… or rather, the ring she's never stopped wearing on the fourth one, which he appears to notice only now.

"You kept it… you're still wearing it."

"I am."

Kissing her fingers again before taking both her hands in his own, he moves his increasingly bright eyes over her, seemingly allowing himself to properly look at her for the first time only now.

"My incredible wife," he mutters with awe.

"My impossible husband," she replies, happier than she has been for a long time.

His smile is tentative, but only at first. Before long, both of them are grinning at one another, holding hands once more after all these years.

Indeed, Belle is overwhelmed by joy to the extent that it takes her a while to realize that the brightness at the periphery of her vision is in fact sunlight. Looking away for just a moment from the man she still loves more than anything, she spots some rays of sunshine making their way through the small, dirty windows of his solitary home.

"The storm has passed," he remarks, following her gaze.

It almost seems like half a lifetime ago when said bad weather was the main, possibly the only reason that she sought shelter in his house in the first place.

"It has, yes," she says, making no move whatsoever to leave.

"Will you stay?" he asks, cupping her cheek ever so gently. "At least for a while longer?"

Leaning in to him to press her lips lovingly against his forehead, Belle doesn't need to think twice.

"Yes, I will."


End file.
